


Remember The Word Forget

by minnesotamemelord



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e09 A Journey to the Highlands, Feels, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, POV Jimmy, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Short, Short & Sweet, Some Humor, sort of canon compliant, well kind of sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:26:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnesotamemelord/pseuds/minnesotamemelord
Summary: Jimmy’s temper is still running high a year after what he refers to only as “the incident.” So Mrs. Hughes takes it upon herself to talk him down.





	Remember The Word Forget

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rewatching Downton before the movie comes out and I just had the idea to write this. I hope you all enjoy it, and know that I always read and appreciate all comments and feedback! -C

“You wanted to see me, Mrs. Hughes?” Jimmy folded his hands, trying to hold himself up straight. This was not the first time he had been called into Mrs. Hughes's sitting room, and he was sure it would not be the last.

"I did, James." Mrs. Hughes's mouth was pressed in a thin line, the mix of disappointment and concern that Jimmy and the rest of the staff were quite familiar with by now. "Have a seat." She pointed at the chair opposite her desk. Jimmy sat, although he kept perched on the end of the seat. His leg bounced, betraying his outwardly calm expression.

"Why- um, why exactly am I here, Mrs. Hughes?" He couldn't think of anything he'd done wrong. Not recently, anyways. He'd gone to the pictures a few days ago, it was his half-day, and he'd been home a few minutes late, but Ivy had covered for him. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No. Well, not really." She changed the subject, leaving his question partially unanswered. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Uh... sure." Jimmy actually hated tea. _Hated_ it. It didn't matter that he, like all Englishmen, had been raised on a diet of half tea. He drank it, out of habit, but if he had the choice, he'd dump all of Britain's tea into the English Channel, just like those Americans in the revolution, except his wouldn't be a protest against taxes, just against drinking so much tea all the time. But he tried to be polite, especially when he thought he might get yelled at, so he took the cup and saucer from Mrs. Hughes when she poured it, stifling a wince at the bitter taste. "So... you still haven't told me quite why I'm here."

"Right. Yes." She nodded, almost like she was just now trying to come up with what she was planning to say. "Have you and Alfred and Mr. Barrow all been alright since, um..." She gestured vaguely.

"I suppose so, why?"

"Well, I noticed that you seem not to be speaking to Mr. Barrow very much."

"No. But, um-"

"I understand why, of course, but if I may..." He realized now that the thin line of her mouth wasn't disappointment or concern. It was something else totally unrecognizable. "You might be a little kinder to Mr. Barrow."

"I don't see why." Jimmy scoffed. "He's- he's a-"

"Just listen. Please." Her eyes pleaded silently. "I've known Thomas- If you'll allow me to call him that- a long time. Much longer than you have."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Jimmy fell back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest.

"It means you're not the first silly, shameless flirt to come into this house and break his heart. And you probably won't be the last. Thomas Barrow has been through more in his short time here on earth than you could possibly imagine."

"I don't see what this has to do with me still."

"It has everything to do with you, James. Now, look. When Thomas first came here as a hall boy, he was hardly younger than you, just seventeen years old, about yea high-" she held her hand up about a foot below where Thomas stood now, "-with that stick-straight black hair and eyes so blue they were almost white. It was like looking into glass. And he was cold, of course, and hard. Not nearly as much as he is now, but he didn't make friends easily back then either. From what I can tell, from what he's told me, he was just like his father." Jimmy's eyebrows shot up.

"He never talks about his dad."

"And for good reason. His father treated him like one of his clocks. Something to be wound up and put on a shelf and forgotten about, seen but never heard. And if it was broken, you just had to reach in and twist the wires and gears until it worked again. His father twisted him from a boy into a man long before he ever should have had to be."

"So that's an excuse for what he did to me?"

"I'm getting to that, if you'll just sit down and shut up!" Mrs. Hughes ran her hands over the front of her dress, smoothing it down. "I apologize for the outburst." Jimmy waved his hand.

"S'fine."

"Thank you. So he came here, young and eager. Eager to stay, to move up in the ranks. Mr. Carson didn't like him even then. He was ambitious, a little too much for Mr. Carson's taste. He'd do anything to get ahead. But was a hard worker, and one of our footmen quit, so Mr. Carson had no choice but to promote him."

"Mrs. Hughes, not to be rude, but when are you going to get to the point?"

"I'm getting there, hold your horses. Now, like I said earlier, you're hardly the first boy to break his heart. At that time, Thomas was second footman. The first footman was a young man named Clarence. He was the kindest man I'd ever met in me whole life. So, of course, Thomas took a shine to him."

"Wait, you've known all this time about Thomas? About what he is?"

"Of course I have. I'm not blind, you know. As I was saying, Thomas was infatuated with Clarence. Whenever Clarence was around, he was kinder. More generous. He let people in, started making more friends. And, to tell you something I'm not sure I've ever told before, I always thought Clarence might've been _like_ Thomas. The two of them were very close for a time, but one morning, Clarence turned in his notice, and he was gone that evening. Thomas's walls went back up. He was even nastier than he had been before, and he seemed to harbor a little more hate for the world."

"Wait, you said that I wasn't the first- was there another one? Besides Clarence?" Mrs. Hughes nodded soberly.

"Unfortunately. A few years after Clarence, the Earl of Montgomery came to visit."

"And let me guess, Thomas fell in love with his valet?" She let out a rueful, almost shocked, laugh.

"If only. No, Thomas fell in love with the Earl himself." Jimmy's jaw dropped.

"The... Earl?"

"Indeed. He stayed here for a week, but his valet was sick, so Thomas stepped in. One night during dinner, I had to step into the room for a moment, and I saw the looks they exchanged. Thomas loved him, and he loved Thomas. If I thought I could have without getting Thomas fired and both of them arrested, I would have said something. But I didn't, and after a week, the earl went home. The day after, Thomas stayed in bed, supposedly sick. That week, the one where he thought he might finally be happy, he seemed to be walking on air the entire time. He didn't say a harsh word to anyone, not even Mr. Carson."

"I still don't understand what any of this has to do with me, Mrs. Hughes." Jimmy sipped his tea, which had gone lukewarm.

"Thomas Barrow, as cold as he may seem, is not made of ice. He is a man, just as much as you are, beneath that frosty exterior. He came into this house as a boy that grew into a man too fast, and with each new love, he melted just a bit, and you could see him, who he really was. But with each heartbreak, each stab in the back and each promise broken, he froze a little more. He is, contrary to popular belief, still human, but I don't think people realize that. I'm not even sure he realizes it anymore. The reason I'm telling you all this is because I want you to know that thinking you loved him made him into the best version of himself he has, and losing you, almost losing everything, it's frozen the both of you. You're his friend, whether you love him or not, and just because he's different from you doesn't make him different from the man you knew. You knew the man he tried to be, the man he could be, and losing you, even as a friend, crushed that part of him. Can you find it within yourself to get past his... his lapse, and perhaps regain that common ground you once shared?" Jimmy was still trying to process everything he'd learned. Thomas and Clarence. Thomas and the Earl of Montgomery. And as a matter of fact, what Mrs. Hughes had said made quite a bit of sense. Before... "the incident," Thomas had gotten kinder and gentler by the minute, his affection growing the more he believed Jimmy was truly in love with him.

"I think..." Jimmy stared down into his tea, then set it aside. "I think I can, Mrs. Hughes. Will that be all?" Mrs. Hughes beamed.

"Yes, I think it will, James. And I thank you for your generosity."

"It's nothing. Thank you for talking some sense into me."

"That's what I'm here for, Mr. Kent. And while you're at it, take it easy on Alfred." Jimmy chuckled.

"That might be a bit tougher." Mrs. Hughes said nothing, only rolled her eyes. "I'll get back to my work."

"You'd better, or Mr. Carson'll have both our heads on a platter." Jimmy slipped out, shutting the door behind him. He turned to walk down the hall back to the kitchen and nearly walked directly into Thomas.

"Oh! I'm-" They met eyes, and Thomas quickly averted his. "Sorry. I'll just-"

"Right." Jimmy stood to the side, allowing him through. He watched Thomas walk past, settling his shoulders back. "Thomas? That is, Mr. Barrow?" Thomas spun on his heel, his face almost expressionless, except for his eyes, which were, as Mrs. Hughes had said, like looking into glass. Deeply, deeply fragile glass.

"Yes, James?"

"Fancy a smoke later? After dinner?" Thomas suppressed a look of shock, then a grin, although his dimples, which were deeper than the Mariana Trench, which Jimmy had learned about from one of Thomas's oceanography books (it was an odd fascination of his, Jimmy had learned, and an ironic one, given the number of people in the servant's hall that referred to him as a shark), betrayed him.

"I think that would be nice." He seemed like he might have more to say, but he didn't. He simply nodded, turned back around, and kept walking. This time, he didn't seem to have to adjust his posture. He held himself up all on his own. Jimmy chuckled and kept towards the servant's hall. Perhaps Thomas hadn't caused quite as much trouble as they'd thought after all.


End file.
